Do I Wear a Kick-Me Sign?
by Thepolymathwriter
Summary: Alison Hendrix is content in her suburban lifestyle with her family. On evening though, after nursing a glass or red wine, she receives a call and subsequent visit from detective Elizabeth Childs, and her entire world is turned upside down as she's pulled into a world of connections, conspiracies, and clones. Exploring the early interactions of the North American clones. Alison POV


_Author's Note: This is my first foray back into fanfiction in recent months, so excuse me if I'm a little rusty. I hope to keep this going, as I'm excited to explore the early interactions as the North American clones are meeting each other for the first time, though I can't say anything for sure with my crazy schedule. Also I love Alison and I really want to dig deep into her character. I'm just really excited about Orphan Black in general right now. Anyways, enough of my rambling. Please read and review, I really do appreciate it! Peace out clone club._

Putting the glass to her lips, she couldn't help but sigh in relief at its cold comfort. Like an old friend, it was waiting for her. There was nothing quite comparable to a smooth glass of red wine at the end of a long day. It was a tradition she had started shortly after the she and Donnie were married; a tradition she had stayed faithful to throughout her life since then. Alison needed that glass of wine - it was something that was uniquely and utterly hers. She loved her kids and all that they brought to her life and she loved Donnie - oh how she loved Donnie - but at the end of that day she also needed to love herself. And wine was simply the best way to do that.

Tilting the glass back, she felt the supple merlot pass her lips and she sighed again. Why couldn't there be more wine in life? Wine didn't have problems. It didn't talk back. It didn't sit on the couch all day watching useless sports. It didn't make messes or not do the chores. It didn't fight or bite or cause any trouble. No, wine was just there. There in utter simplicity and solution. There when she needed it.

After she married Donnie, the two of them tried for kids for several months. Longer then that even. Every night they'd lie awake until the wee hours of the morning, talking about how wonderful their future family would be. The white-picket fence they'd have and the neighbourhood potlucks they'd attend. They'd make friends with other families and their kids would play and learn and grow with other kids and every night Donnie would come home from work to a warm meal and hugs from the kids. They talked about whose traits would show up in the kids: Alison's stubborn determination and Donnie's unconditional affection. They talked about names and activities-the kids would definitely play soccer-and everything else. After the talking was done, they'd spend the rest of the night loving each other with such dedication and purposefulness. This kind of lovemaking wasn't about their love for each other, rather, it was making love for their future together. They were so passionate for this future though, it came forth in their affections for each other. For six months this ritual of talking and sex went on with no results. For a few weeks, they pressed even harder, finding every excuse to try and conceive. Finally they agreed to go to the doctor in the big office building downtown, just to check and make sure everything was ok. First he checked over Donnie, coming to the conclusion that his sperm were Olympic caliber swimmers, and that he was ok. Then it came to her, and she was not ok. At least not in that way.

Alison remembered how Donnie hugged her for a very long time in that doctor's office in the big office building downtown. He hugged her for a very long time in the car before they left the car-park of the big office building downtown. He hugged her for a very long time when they got home. He didn't suggest options or alternative plans or the future or anything like that yet, he just hugged her until she asked to be alone. And he let her be alone.

Alison had had her nightly glass of wine that evening, though this time it was less of a glass and more like a bottle and a half. She fell asleep on the bathroom floor, her eyes and pink cashmere sweater tear stained but no fresh tears fell. She was numb, and the wine had brought that. She needed to be numb in that moment, and looking back on it now, Alison didn't know if she would have gotten through that experience as cleanly as she had without those hours of numb. Sometimes you needed to be numb, even if it was just a glass of wine after a long day.

Alison sipped from her glass again, bringing it down slowly on her craft table, swirling it as she did so. Wine had always been there, and it always would be there going forward. She didn't know very much for sure in her life – what mood Donnie would be in tomorrow, if the kids would get good grades or go to college or have careers, or if the upcoming day or week or month or lifetime would be a success – but what she did know was that she could find comfort in a smooth glass of red at the end of the day.

Suddenly Alison's cell-phone erupted in its usual tinkling chirp, it's arpegiotic tones echoing through the empty craft-room. Startled, Alison put her glass down and picked up the phone, wondering who in the world would be calling at this ungodly hour. The display showed an unknown number, and Alison frowned, trying to remember if she should have been expecting a call. Tentatively, she accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Alison Hendrix?" a clipped female voice sounded from the other end.

"Yes," Alison paused. "May I ask who's calling?"

"My name is Detective Elizabeth Childs, um," Alison could hear the speaker hesitate. "Would I be able to speak with you?"

Alison felt more questions race through her mind. What was a cop doing calling her at this hour? Did she accidently run a red light? Did Donnie do something? Oh goodness, did somebody die? She felt her heart start to race.

Alison cleared her throat. "Well, you're talking to me now," she said, trying her very best to sound assertive but still respectful.

"No, I meant in person," detective Elizabeth Childs continued.

"Oh," Alison stopped and instinctively took another swig of her wine. "Well I'm not exactly sure why you need to talk to me detective, but I can assure you I'm a model citizen and don't think I've done anything warranting your involvement but if you insist we can arrange a meeting time or-"

"I'm outside you house," the other woman cut her off and Alison almost dropped her wine glass.

"Outside my house? How in god's name do you know where I live and why do you need to know?"

"I have access to files, that's beside the point though," detective Elizabeth Childs' voice was tinged with impatience. "I really need to speak with you though. Could I come in? I figured it was more courteous to call than to simply ring the doorbell at this time of night."

Alison hesitated. "My kids are sleeping…"

"It's urgent."

Alison clenched her fist, feeling her knuckles crack as she contemplated what to do. She couldn't exactly turn a cop away – that could lead to more trouble. Then again, maybe this was all a ruse pulled by an elaborate thief or sex criminal. She'd read a book once about that, there was this man down in Nevada or something that impersonated a cop, convinced girls to get into his squad car and then raped them! And there have been countless identity thieves and embezzlers who impersonated law enforcement. Alison was not going to have her identity stolen today, nor ever.

"Alison?"

"Oh right, sorry," Alison sighed and felt her gaze wander upwards to the upper floors where her kids were sleeping. "Fine, you can come in. But go around back to the basement walkout door. I don't want to wake my kids. This better be important."

"It is." And with that the call ended.

Alison put down the phone and felt her hand go to her temple. She had absolutely no idea what this Elizabeth Childs wanted with her. No idea at all. God knows she needed more stress in her life. With yet another sigh, Alison stood up and made her way over to the double doors. She doubled back, reconsidering what she would do if Elizabeth Childs had any ill intent. Impulsively, she lifted an ornate iron candlestick from the coffee table, figuring at least it was something to defend herself with. Clutching the candlestick in one hand, she started back towards the door, arriving just as a sharp knock came from outside. Alison pulled back the curtain, seeing only a shadowy figure about her size out there. Well at least they were evenly matched physically. Cautiously, she opened the door and beckoned for Elizabeth Childs to come in.

The other woman was wearing jeans and a dark long-sleeved shirt, nothing too elaborate. Alison could see the glint of a badge on her hip and felt her defenses relax slightly; Elizabeth Childs was a real cop at least, and thus probably not a rapist. Dark shoulder-length hair shrouded her face, and it fell back as she turned to face Alison.

Alison felt her chest clench and her face widened in shock as a silent gasp escaped her lips. She felt the candlestick slipping from her suddenly slick fingers and it fell to the shag-carpeted floor with a dull-resounding thud. She wanted to say something, anything at all to this woman as she stared at her, but no sound came out.

"Oh my god," Elizabeth Childs spoke first, through lips that perfectly mirrored Alison's own. "The German was right."

Alison fumbled for words. "You…you…me…what the hell?" She drew both hands up to her face, almost as if to feel and make sure it was the same as it always had been.

"I know this is shocking and I know you're jumping to a million conclusions," Elizabeth Childs said, her voice shaking with her own shock as she obviously tried to contain it. "But I really need to talk to you about something bigger than the both of us. Could we sit?"

Alison bit her lip, her mind racing as it processed this woman. This woman with the dark hair, thin eyebrows, angular jawline and upturned lips; her dark hair, her thin eyebrows, her angular jawline and her upturned lips. It was like looking in a mirror, save for the bangs and outfit.

"Um, yes, sure, we-we can sit," Alison finally said, gesturing to the sofa. "If you excuse me, I'm just-I'm just going to go grab a glass of wine actually. Can I offer you one?"

"Um, sure," Elizabeth carefully sat down. "Thanks."

Alison quickly strode back into the craft room, grabbing her wine glass immediately and downing it' contents. It's smooth taste cascaded down her throat that still felt at a loss for words. She quickly poured two fresh glasses, taking a long swig from one before topping it back up.

Wine would always be there when she needed it, and there was a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that tonight she would really need it. Taking a deep breath, Alison picked up the two glasses and went to meet Elizabeth Childs.


End file.
